Bad Influence
by lori51
Summary: "As soon as I met you I knew."
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Okay so my muse was under strict instructions not to start any new stories or jump onto any new ships until all my open stories were finished, but apparently she just doesn't care. Just found this show, totally hooked, watched all episodes in under five days, and now that I'm caught up… need… more… now…**_

One

Vic winced at the scathing look Lizzy shot in her direction as Walt unceremoniously led her into his office and shut the door behind them. She rolled her eyes when Ruby and Ferg looked at her for an explanation, as it seemed they'd done regularly in recent days. When had she become Walt's translator? Hell, when had she become fluent in his form of communication, anyway? Because there was no point in denying that somewhere down the line, she had.

She wasn't going to feel guilty about this. She wasn't. She had nothing to feel guilty about, and she knew it. So she had impure thoughts, feelings and desires for her boss; so sue her. She hadn't acted on them, and wouldn't. It didn't matter, anyway. He didn't return them. The fact that they'd seemed to be growing closer lately had nothing to do with Walt's relationship-or-whatever-the-hell it was with Lizzy. That was his business. He needed a friend right now, and that was something she could do. She was here for him when he needed her; that was it. Between Cady, and Branch, and Henry, and the murder investigation, and her own mess with Gorski, she could sure as hell understand that even a rock like Walt Longmire needed someone to talk to, and while she continued to be surprised that he allowed that someone to be her, she wouldn't begrudge him anything that he needed right now. The man hadn't hesitated to offer his help when she needed it, even when it obviously caused problems in his decidedly complicated personal life, and she owed him for that.

"Vic?" Belatedly she realized that Branch had been trying somewhat unsuccessfully to get her attention. She looked up guiltily. "I said, do you know anything about _that _situation?" He nodded to the closed door. She shrugged. No way in hell she was revealing what she did know. _Well, see, Lizzy is of the opinion that Walt and I have feelings for each other and are simply too scared to act on them_. _That _was a conversation she would initiate about half past never. She couldn't deny that it had given her food for thought, however.

Her marriage had been over for a long time. She was just putting off the inevitable; they both knew that. Sean had had someone else for a while; he hadn't made a secret of it. The divorce would be final soon, and then he was taking a transfer out of here as soon as he could. He hated it here and couldn't wait to leave.

And this was her home now. She had told herself it was due to the people she'd met; they were her family now. That was partly true, although now that she was being honest with herself, she had to admit that it was mostly down to Walt. Her home was wherever he was. And it wasn't until that night at his cabin and Lizzy's indignant commentary that she had even begun to entertain the notion that it wasn't an entirely one-sided attraction. Since that night, however, it had been all she could think about.

Was it possible that he could feel the same? Walt Longmire wasn't a get-in-touch-with-your-feelings kind of guy. She was the first one to admit that. But she liked it about him. She was the same. He was a straight-up, honest man. As maddening as that could sometimes be, it was nice to know where you stood with the man. He didn't play games, and that was rare. She liked that about him. And yet, lately she was getting the distinct impression that he may be as affected by her as she was by him.

But what difference did it make, even if he was? Walt Longmire was a one-woman man. That was plain to see. Lizzy had been right about at least one thing; it was plain to see that the man was still in love with his wife, and probably always would be. It was hard for her to find fault with him for that. That kind of love and loyalty was hard to find, in any man, or woman, for that matter. Lizzy really hadn't given him much of a choice; she had more or less thrown herself at the man, had worn him down until Vic thought he'd spent time with her more because he was lonely than out of any particular affection for the woman.

Vic wasn't that kind of woman and never had been. She was a lot more like Walt than she cared to admit, and she had too much pride to throw herself at any man. If she and Walt were ever going to be together, he'd have to meet her at the very least half way. She was pretty sure he was on his way, at least as much as she was right now. But she needed more. If she was going to put her career and her reputation and her heart on the line for this man, she needed more. Now she just had to figure out if he had more to give, and if he even wanted to go down this road with her. And if he did, just what in the hell she was prepared to do about it. She needed him. She knew that. But even if he needed her half as much as she thought he did, she was pretty sure hell would freeze over before he would admit it.

The door opened abruptly and all eyes in the office flew to it. Walt was holding it open, ever the gentleman, his expression as stoic as ever, and Lizzy looked like she'd been crying. She managed a small smile for their benefit and then walked out without a word, and Walt didn't wait for the censure of his team, just turned and went back into the office, shutting the door quietly but firmly behind him. Case closed, as they all knew.

But, as had been inexplicably happening more and more often these days, all eyes went to Vic. She looked at them with her very best "whaaaaaaaaaaat?" expression, but they weren't buying it. She knew Ruby was still hurt at being shut out, but they couldn't keep on expecting for her to go in there and talk him out of his funk. He needed to learn to communicate, damn it. She shifted her attention back to her computer for all of two minutes until the weight of their collective stares threatened to bore a hole through her flesh.

In exasperation, she finally looked up at them, and then sighed. She hadn't been elected to this position but apparently that didn't matter. She was now the Walt Whisperer. Damn it to hell. Shaking her head, praying for a call out that wasn't coming soon enough to save her from the very last conversation she wanted to have, she dragged herself to her feet and opened the door without knocking.

ooooo

Walt sat at his recently salvaged desk, his jaw cradled in his palm, wondering how things had gone _this _wrong. When Cady had been in the hospital in critical condition, he had told himself that it was his fault, because he had allowed the night before to happen, because he had put what he had wanted at the moment before the needs of his child, the one thing he had sworn all of his daughter's life that he would never do. But that wasn't quite true, was it?

He didn't love Lizzy, as much as he'd tried. He'd had no business spending that night with her, as much as he may have enjoyed it at the time. It wasn't right. It wasn't honest. To tell the truth, he was ashamed of himself. Because he had enjoyed it. Hell, he was a man. What red-blooded man wouldn't have enjoyed it? Lizzy wanted him and had made no secret of that. She'd liked the looks of him from the first moment she saw him and she hadn't made a secret of that, either. And he couldn't deny that he was flattered. Lizzy was a beautiful woman. She was fun to be around, and she thought he walked on water. What wasn't to like?

But she wasn't Martha. He didn't love her. He should have done the right thing and let her down easily: told her from the very beginning that she was a good woman and he was flattered by her interest but his heart was otherwise engaged. He was paying for that now.

But really, he was still somewhat confused by her ire. There wasn't a damn thing between him and Victoria Moretti; he'd told her that the other night and he'd told her that today, for all the damn bit of good it'd done him. She didn't believe a word he said, and frankly, he didn't blame her. He hadn't exactly acted honorably when it came to her. He'd tried his damndest to do the right thing and stay away, but in the end, he was just a man. He was lonely, and it had been a long time. What she'd been offering him on so many levels had just been too tempting to resist forever, though Lord knew he'd tried.

But the idea that she was jealous of Vic was just too ridiculous to dignify with a response, though he'd tried in vain to do just that. Vic was, for him, safe, because there was exactly zero chance that anything would ever happen between them. For God's sake, Vic was too young, too beautiful, and too married for him to even think of having a chance with her. Hell, he knew that. Why didn't Lizzy? He was an old man. What could she possibly see in him? It embarrassed him to admit that to Lizzy, but he'd done it anyway. Hell, the woman was the best thing that had happened to him in a long damn time. His life was so fucked up right now. He didn't want to let go of the only good thing he had, even though it was the right thing to do. He was tired of being alone, tired of going home to an empty house and an empty bed every night.

He did his job, fulfilled his purpose in this life. He gave it everything he had, to the detriment of all else. Hell, he had no life but this office. And he'd been fine with that, until this woman had come along, reminding him of what he'd had and what he'd lost, what he'd been missing.

And suddenly it wasn't enough anymore. But he was some piece of work, wasn't he? A wonderful woman came along, more than he deserved, wanting him, taking the time and making the not inconsiderable effort to pursue him, to woo him, warts and all, and did he appreciate it? Did he appreciate her? Did he appreciate exactly what she'd done for him, for all intents and purposes waking him up to life again, to what he needed and what he'd been missing all this time?

Of course not. All it had done was make him realize that the one woman he wanted to go home with every night was the one woman he could never have: one of his deputies, Victoria Moretti. Vic. And apparently he wasn't subtle about it, either, if Lizzy of all people had picked up on it. Hell, even Lucien Connally had noticed something a few weeks back. He'd just shook his head, throwing out a laconic "You don't shit where you eat, Sheriff." And that was that. It had flabbergasted him at the time. What in the hell had there been for anyone to see? He'd shut down anything he felt for her. Hadn't he?

Because it was impossible. He knew that. She was married. And even if she wasn't, she wouldn't want him. He was too old, too stubborn, too set in his ways for a strong modern woman like Vic. She didn't take any of his shit, never had, never would. She was way too good for the likes of him.

But so was his Martha. And they'd had so many good years together. Lizzy wasn't wrong; he still loved Martha and always would. She was wrong about Vic, though. There was nothing there, nothing but trust and friendship.

And then he heard Martha's voice in his head, like he still did from time to time. _Aren't those the things you build a relationship on, Walt? Isn't that exactly where we started, and look what we built, together_?

He couldn't argue with that, but Vic was her own woman. She wouldn't be satisfied with the very little that he had left to give. Would she?

He couldn't think about that now. He'd done the right thing, for the first time in a long time. He'd let Lizzy go. He didn't love her like she deserved to be loved, and he'd done the right thing and told her that. He'd hated hurting her, and he'd hate like hell to go home alone tonight, again, but it was the right thing to do. Damn it. Now he needed to get back to work.

The door opened without warning, and he found himself looking into the worried brown eyes of his deputy, the very last person he wanted to see right now. And it seemed like the universe certainly had a sense of humor. Because the very last person who should be looking at him right now like he alone held the key to some vital secret was standing in front of him, and he had absolutely no idea what to say to her.

_**A/N2: This was supposed to be a one-shot... got a little out of control... TBC...**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

Vic gave herself a hard mental shake. She could do this. It didn't have to get awkward. She did feel some responsibility for what she was pretty sure had just transpired in this room, because the only reason she'd been at Walt's that night and come between him and Lizzy was because he'd been helping her out. Because she'd been scared shitless that Ed Gorski had been in her house and in a moment of weakness she'd turned to Walt for help. So she owed it to him to deal with the aftermath of what she'd caused. He was looking at her warily now, and it almost made her smile.

She refused to let the sheepish smile come to her face. "You okay?"

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair and stretching his long legs out beneath his desk. She refused to notice, keeping her eyes firmly on his. "You need something, Vic?"

And wasn't that the question of the hour? For just a second, she let he mind wander. What would happen if she simply nodded her answer to that question, walked around his desk and sank into his lap in that big chair, shutting him up with her mouth until talking was the very last thing on either of their minds?_ As a matter of fact, I do, Walt. I need you_. Unbidden, her mind flashed to the way he'd looked that night at his cabin, dripping wet fresh from the shower, with just a towel wrapped around his waist. Sweet Jesus, when would she ever get that image out of her head?

"Vic." She started, realizing that she was still staring at him inexplicably while that image had taken over. Hard mental shake. Again.

"I was hoping you could get Lizzy to listen to reason," she said quickly. "I feel bad for screwing up a good thing for you because I was weak. Scared," she bit out derisively. "You shouldn't have to pay for helping me."

And he was already shaking his head. "That isn't your fault. This doesn't have anything to do with you," he went on, while a voice that sounded suspiciously like his wife's laughed in his head._ Liar, Liar_. "She was right about one thing: I do still love my wife. But this isn't your fault. I won't apologize for helping a friend, and I'd do it again. Anything you need, you come to me." He almost winced at the possessive tone he could hear in his own voice. Hopefully she couldn't. Because he didn't want her going to Branch or Ferg for help, for reasons he refused to analyze right now.

He studied her, and he must have seen the indecision in her face, because he pushed back his chair and rounded his desk quicker than she expected. "I mean that, Vic. I don't like knowing that Gorski's in the wind. You hear anything, anytime, you call me."

Having him toe to toe was too much, too fast. His size and his heat and his nearness and his scent overwhelmed her in an instant, and she had to fight not to take a step back for her own self preservation. An image of him in the shower flashed in her mind and she fought it back, with effort. _Don't go there. _It was all she could do to stand there and hold her ground as best she could while she looked into his eyes. What in the hell was he waiting for again? Oh, yeah. An assurance she couldn't give him. With regret, she turned away from him, pacing the length of his office.

"You've done enough. I need to handle this myself. I don't want you—" ...getting hurt because of me. Sacrificing your happiness for me. Getting too close. There were too many ways she could finish that sentence, and she wasn't going down any of those roads. Better to stop while she was ahead.

When she turned again he was dangerously close again, smack in the middle of her personal space. "That wasn't a request, Vic." Staring down at her, he was as hard and implacable as she'd ever seen him. "I've done a piss-poor job of protecting everyone I care about." He wasn't about to list them all, but he didn't have to. His wife was dead. Cady and Branch had both been close to death recently. Henry was receiving daily beatings in jail. For a man like him, she knew how every one of those would seem to him like personal failures. She felt herself soften against her will.

"Walt—"

"I won't let anything happen to you. Promise me you'll call when you need me. No matter when or where or how small a detail." His eyes were so serious, boring into hers with an intensity she'd rarely seen, in him or in anyone. God, this man. He got to her on so many levels. She didn't want to lose her heart to him. Didn't ever want to make herself that vulnerable again, but how could she help it when he looked at her like that? She was pretty sure she could feel her heart melting in her chest right now. And he was still too close. She couldn't think with him this close.

Without thinking, she lifted a hand to his chest, flat on his shirt front, whether to push him away or pull him closer she wouldn't have been able to answer under oath. And it really didn't matter why she'd done it in the first place, because in the space of a heartbeat, his big, rough hand had covered hers and it was as if a circuit had been completed. Instant electricity. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move. Could only see him.

"Say the words, Vic," he said, and his voice shot through her entire body with the force of another jolt of electricity, igniting every nerve ending in its wake. Dear Lord, this man was deadly when he wanted to be. Even when he didn't want to be, she imagined. And she could deny him nothing. Not when he was looking at her like that, touching her like that. Which was ridiculous, because it was completely innocent. All she could do now was hope and pray he never realized the effect he had on her, just like this.

And he was still waiting for... what? Words? Who could possibly be capable of words at a time like this? She nodded weakly, and his eyes narrowed until she let out a long resigned sigh. "Fine. You win."

He nodded, his eyes still so serious and blue on hers. There was no smirk, no satisfaction, no triumph there. So why did she feel like she'd surrendered something vital? Something she swore she'd never give to another human being, let alone a man?

The door opened and Ruby strode in, then stopped abruptly when she saw them, as if she'd caught them at something. "Oh." She looked from one to the other and then back again, and then gathered herself. "You have a call out."

Damn it. Walt dragged his eyes from Vic's, with effort, clearing his suddenly-dry throat. "Thanks, Ruby." He stepped back, dropping his hand from hers with extreme displeasure that he sincerely hoped didn't show, following Ruby to the door, only stopping to look back when he realized that Vic wasn't following. "You coming?"

Jolting herself into action, Vic strode after him, forcing her heart and her brain and her lungs to work again. What in the hell had just happened? And there was no time to analyze it now. They had work to do. Walt was already barking orders for Ferg and Branch as he clapped his hat onto his head and pulled on his jacket. His eyes met hers, unreadable as usual, and she breathed a sigh of relief at the reprieve. It was going to be a long day.

_**TBC...**_


End file.
